


And She Screamed

by TheMadDesperado



Series: Inktober 2018 [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fratricide, Inktober, It was only a short oneshot that grew up, Origin Story, Politics, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadDesperado/pseuds/TheMadDesperado
Summary: The story of a noble dwarf rising out of the flames of her family to become the warden to end the blight.





	And She Screamed

She was meant for this, this just wasn't how she imagined dying doing it.

She thought she was clever, playing the political game with her brothers. She was meant for greatness, just not on the throne.

Etta Aeducan had battled darkspawn since she was a child, in deep Thaigs pushing the front lines back and giving the shapers a chance to grab old relics. In late nights where the darkspawn had gotten into the closer areas, in the tunnels leading to the commons where she battled until her limbs went numb and there was no sign of taint.

She was the commander of the dwarven army, she led countless pushes into the deep roads and now she was doomed a death by what she had made her life killing, and she wasn't even a warden.

Etta Aeducan was guilty of fratricide, she had killed her older brother for the good of all dwarves, and now she was paying with her own after Bhelen had shown the assembly what exactly she had done in the deep.

Now she was casteless, forgotten from the memories, dead to all who used to know her.  
But she would not die in silence. 

She had been screaming since birth against darkspawn, against politics, against fucking Trian now she was screaming her anger.

She knew there were wardens down here, sweet Gorim had told her before the moment of her death, but she wasn't sure she was even close to where they were, and worse she was soaked in the tainted blood after hours of searching.

Now she screamed as she slashed with the great sword, anger fueling every swing, anger at Bhelen for being smarter, Trian for being a terrible king, the assembly for not seeing Trian for what he was, Gorim for telling her there was an escape from fate, herself for swinging the final blow on her brother, anger for not being good enough.

Now she was a monster of the deep roads mother's will tell their children about, your brother may be bad, but you remember what happened years ago, you'll be sent to the deep roads to be eaten.

Now she was a dead woman walking into the afterlife still with weapon drawn, not royal, not a commander, not a sister, not a dwarf, not even alive to return any more.

But she was not finished. 

Not when her anger was still pulsing her veins, not when her anger was all she had left, not when she hadn't killed nearly enough darkspawn to right the wrong, not when she still hasn't found the wardens in the deep.

Not when she could still fix something.

Her screams echoed, ripping her throat and burning her ears, passion, pain, anger and sadness echoed off the walls in her ears not the power and fury the wardens heard in the next tunnel over.

The wardens had been in the deep roads for days. The dwarves under the princess' command were pushing all the way to the deep trenches, not quite there yet, but on the fringes of reclaiming ancient thaigs forgotten to memory and there were little more than deepstalkers prowling the caverns. 

Until they heard the screams.

It began yesterday, or what they could tell was yesterday in the dark of the deep roads, that they heard something in the walls.

Duncan had said sometimes you hear things, old wardens still fighting or ghouls of what once were dwarves, but by the next morning he decided it was something else.

They were working on getting out to the surface, attempting to plug up any other entrances to the deep, and in the tunnels they were leaving through there was one such opening, but apparently there was another tunnel as well.

Another tunnel with a demon of war hidden.

She was screaming when the wall broke behind her.

She screamed the injustice of her actions, screamed hoping her ancestors understood why she needed to do what she did, screamed in fear that an ogre had come, she wasn't equipped for something like that now.

She screamed at men that stood behind the wall thinking they were hurdlocks, but when one screamed back she was silent.

She screamed because in silence she could hear the crimes settling in her name.

She joined the wardens on the fourth day in the deep roads. She was a warden, not a commander, not noble, not a sister anymore. 

She came back to Orzamar at the end, after killing a dragon, brokering peace between elves and werewolves, saving the mages from demons and abominations, after healing arl eamon with the ashes of andraste, she came back to anger and betrayal.

She was dead, she took an easy way out, became a warden, she was a stain on the stone.

Gorim had found a woman.

Bhelen actually welcomed her back in an embrace. She felt tears well up in the warmth between them. She saw the casteless he was with before, her body swelled with child, body glad in jewels and silks that showed he planned to keep her, and Etta made her choice.

She killed Branka at the anvil in the void.  
   
She let Caridin end it all with the anvil.

She put her conspirator to fratricide onto the throne.

And her companions were appalled. He made you lose your place in line, he tricked you, made you leave by showing the assembly what you are!

She would not defend the better choice for her people, the only choice that would move the dwarves into the future.

She did not tell them that Harrowmont was a day away from ending Trian himself.

She was a warden. A warden didn't need status or reputation, they didn't need to play a game to get what they want, but they needed someone who could see it when it happened.

Etta forgave Loghain, much to her companions dismay. 

He was not unlike her, doing what was right for country not king. A warrior until the end, and the end was the same as her's, to begin anew.

She could not let them execute the man who made her laugh like gorim used to before duty got in the way, so she let him go for the general who let his king die to save fereldan.

She did not follow through with the ritual, even if it was like noble hunting, Etta would slay the demon herself, maybe she could make it up to her father then. 

She couldn't force Loghain into that.

She didn't know her companions cared so much. 

 It didn't rain until Riordan fell from the demon's wings, changing the tone of battle she chose her fate, she would choose to end it here, among the monsters she made her life killing, connected to them with blood and fate.

Lohgain Wynne and sweet Zevran followed her in silence, the weight of these last moments erasing words.

They walked through the prison she had been imprisoned in for saving Anora and killing Howe destroying darkspawn plots and traps in silence other than yells for help and to help.

When she saw the dragon she screamed.

It had been in her dreams since the chalice gave them to her. Speaking in a language she understood but didn't, calling in words she didn't understand.

She screamed in anger, this thing took everything from every one. It was taking her life, it took her death. It needed to be gone forever.

She screamed for the life she wouldn't get to have, the one she didn't know she wanted with a man who was hired to take her life, with the love she fought from happening,

The love she wanted.

The love he deserved.

She found she wanted life at her second death. She screamed as the sword plunged in, tears falling for the ones lost and killed. She screamed when the light shot out, blinded, deafened, and muted as she flew to the other end of the tower. 

She should have let Loghain do it.

She didn't think she would wake from her second death. But the arms holding her and the whispers in her ear said another.

Her eyes stayed closed as she held Zevran close. His shaken gasp when she grabbed him a knife in her heart. She should have done the ritual.

Apparently Loghain did, seeing a way to live and rebuild.

She never thought she would die like this, and apparently she wouldn't.

Etta was no longer a princess, no more a commander or a noble, but a paragon and a warden.

She never thought she could survive this, but she was happy she did.

**Author's Note:**

> the first of inktober oneshots!
> 
> This was written on the bus edited in the bathroom at work, please tell me if there are any formatting or spelling/grammar errors 
> 
> And please review if you liked it! Thank you so much!
> 
> Song written to  
> Yesterday: David Guerra (feat. Babe Rexha)


End file.
